


Those Days Are Gone And My Heart Is Breaking

by ticktockclockwork



Series: One Hit Wonders: A Check Please! Song Fic Series [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Up, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Social Media, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:36:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8602072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticktockclockwork/pseuds/ticktockclockwork
Summary: He wouldn't break down because of Jack. He wouldn't cry because Jack wasn't giving him a chance. He wouldn't let this ruin the high he'd thought he'd felt after a strong win in enemy territory. He wouldn't do any of that, not because of Jack Zimmermann.Except, that was exactly what he did.





	1. Chapter 1

“So I've been thinking.”

“....”

“......”

“... Parse?”

“Yes.”

“It's three in the morning.”

“... Yes.”

Kent waited, holding his breath so his own didn't cover up any signs from Jack on the other line. He was silent long enough that Kent half thought he'd hung up. He wouldn't blame him, mind you, but he hoped not. He pulled the phone away from his ear just to be sure but the call was still connected.

“Ja-”

“What do you want, Parse?” He sounded angry.

Of course he was angry. They'd just played the Aces again, and lost. Again. At home no less. “I…” he huffed in frustration, grabbing the front of his hair and pressing his palm to his forehead. “I just want to talk to you again, Jack.” His voice broke on the other's name and he was surprised to find his eyes wet. “Jesus, sorry, I'm an idiot I-”

“Hold on.”

“W-what?”

“I said hold on. I don't want to wake Bitty.”

The boyfriend, of course. Wouldn't want to wake him. As Kent listened to Jack crawl out of bed and whisper sweetly to his stirring lover, Kent collected himself. He sniffed loudly, grimaced, then wiped hastily at his eyes. He was sitting in his hotel room, lamps on, mini bar laid out on the carpet in front of him. He had his back to the bed where he sat on the floor. He could see just a little of the Providence skyline through the window from this angle.

He heard a click on the other line then a heavy sigh. A TV was turned on in the background, then turned low, as if to give Jack an excuse for having left the bed. “Alright.”

“Alright.” He murmured back, looking to the tiny bottle of Smirnoff he was spinning by his foot. He could see the design of the carpet distorted through the glass of the bottle, his fingers leaning sticky prints from where the leftover vodka leaked through the poorly closed cap.

He'd been quiet for too long. He was the one who was supposed to be talking, but all he could bring himself to do was stare at the kaleidoscope of ugly carpet through the glass of the bottle. He could feel it before he heard it but he still winced when Jack huffed in frustration. “Kent. What do you want?” He snapped, the hushed severity in his voice making Kent let go of the bottle.

“I'm drunk.”

“Yeah, I gathered.”

“No, that's not… I…” It was his turn to huff, pressing his palm back to his forehead. “That's not like… an excuse or whatever. For this.” He was trying to keep his voice steady but he felt himself losing that control. The truth was that he WAS drunk and that had probably smoothed the way from bad decision into action but he wasn't so drunk that he was doing something he didn't want to do. Just… without the alcohol he would have convinced himself out of doing what he was doing right now.

“Then what is it?”

“I dunno, Zimms. A warning? I don't know just… please. Just give me a second.” Jack had derailed him as Jack always derailed him and he was struggling, trying not to get frustrated. It was hard, though. The two of them had never struggled like this before. They'd never had this much friction between them, even after Jack overdosed. Maybe it had been grief that had smoothed out some of the grit between them right after it had all happened but now time and distance had turned everything to shit.

Kent didn't even know what to say to the other anymore. He had always known what to say, especially to Jack. He always had the right words to get him to smile, to get him to go to parties, to get him into his room, to get him to kiss back…

He'd always known just what to say to get what he wanted.

...Wow, he was an asshole.

It was a revelation Kent had had many times over these past few years. Ever since Jack had started playing in Providence he’d been feeling it. For Kent, Jack playing at Samwell didn't count. It was a college team and a weak one at that. For Kent, Jack was always better than that and so, for Kent, nothing had changed because Jack hadn't  _ really _ started playing again. The same couldn't be said after he started with the Falconers. After he started playing without Kent, scoring goals without Kent, making a name for himself without Kent.

Now, two years in, it was unbearable. Jack had moved on. He had a house. He had a boyfriend. He had friends and history and years and years and  _ years _ and Kent had missed it all. And shit did that hurt.

Kent didn't do well when he was hurt.

The silence had stretched on for awhile again and Kent knew Jack's patience would run for only so long. It was the middle of the night and he'd left the presumably warm arms of his boyfriend. The Boyfriend. Eric Bittle. College senior, captain of the Samwell hockey team, and public boyfriend of the now out and proud bisexual Jack Zimmerman. There had been a pretty big shitstorm after that press release came out but Bitty had been handling it like only a southern raised gentleman could and Kent hated every strand of his golden blond hair for it. He was everything Kent wasn't, and yet everything he could have been. He was slight, fast, blond,  _ gay,  _ funny and just. Well, Kent would be loathe to say it, but he was kind, too, and Kent hated him most of all for that.

After all it had been Bitty who had reached out to him to speak to him before they came out. It had been Bitty who had been worried for the possible backlash Kent would receive as old rumors were raised anew. It had been Bitty who had spoken to him timidly on the phone, accent stumbling over all his nerves as he spoke quiet, gentle words of warning. Kent had insisted he could handle whatever came up and while the rumors had surfaced, they'd been far outweighed by the pictures people now had of the happy couple.

Bitty had been clever with what and how he'd released all that. Anytime it seemed the news was taking the story in a direction no one would want, a new photo would surface of Jack and Bitty at a You Can Play event, or Jack swarmed by little kids as they tried their hand at getting a puck past him in the net. Bitty would hashtag it #canadasworstgoalie or #howdarehe when Jack held two of the tinier kids on his shoulders or skated around the rink with a giant snake train of kids behind him, holding onto his hips.

Bitty faced the homophobia with a constant barrage of  _ happiness _ and it was perfect and it worked and it made Kent feel so very, very small. He would never have been able to do this for Jack. He would have been all teeth and bite. The media would have come for him and he'd have snapped right back and anything positive that would have come from it would never have come from him. He liked to believe he would have done what Bitty was doing now, but even he knew better.

Kent hated Bitty and he hated Jack a little more, a little different now, but most of all, beyond anything else, he hated himself. And he desperately missed Jack. He missed old Jack and he missed the years he'd never gotten and he missed  _ them _ as a unit and he wanted that back. He felt he deserved that back. It wasn't fair that Bitty was the only one to see all the best of him, not when Kent had been there for all the worst of him.

He chugged a small bottle of Jim Bean and let out a sharp breath. “I don't know what to say.” He started with a laugh, trying to force casual, to cover the insecurities he'd already shown to the other in the few minutes they'd been speaking. People normally reacted well to Kent's humor, but he really doubted Jack would do the same.

“Maybe…” Jack was being careful with his words, in the way that only Jack could be careful. Focused. Purposeful. He measured the words, weighed them on his tongue to make sure they would have the strongest impact they could have. “Maybe you should figure that out, before you call me again.”

“Jack-”

“Goodnight, Parse.”

Jack hung up on him and though he'd been expecting that from the beginning, it still felt like a slap to the face. “I miss you Jack.” He whispered, though the phone was already slipping from his hand. He let it drop into his lap as his eyes closed, chin trembling, body heavier than it had been in awhile. He gave himself exactly one minute before he was shoving himself off the floor, dumping all the bottles in the garbage, and cleaning himself up. He brushed his teeth, he washed his face, he'd already taken a shower so after that he just crawled into bed and shut off the lights in the room.

He wouldn't break down because of Jack. He wouldn't cry because Jack wasn't giving him a chance. He wouldn't let this ruin the high he'd thought he'd felt after a strong win in enemy territory. He wouldn't do any of that, not because of Jack Zimmermann.

Except, that was exactly what he did.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room around him, he could feel the loneliness settle more acutely into his bones. He could see the lights of the city outside his room, could feel them like pinpricks against his eyes. He could see them blur out and break apart as it all got to be too much and tears finally fell.

He would not cry because of Jack Zimmermann.

Except, in a city far away from his home, away from anything that felt safe, that was exactly what he did.

___

_ Hey Danny Boy, I was thinking of our crew. _ _  
_ _ But thinking just makes me sad, and that's why I write to you. _

_ ___ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back and I am sorry. I love Kent Parson with all my heart and couldn't resist writing for him. I'm not sure how many chapters of this there will be but I am excited for its future. 
> 
> Song: Those Days Are Gone and My Heart Is Breaking by Barton Carroll (https://youtu.be/xkn6Df9qpT8)
> 
> Come scream about things with me on Tumblr @ ticktockclockwork
> 
> Any feedback on this would be greatly appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you do when your competition beats you at your own game?
> 
> Well, you follow them on instagram, of course.

Kent tried again a few days later.

He still didn't know what to say, but he'd be damned if he wasn't determined. He would talk to Jack and he would smooth things out with him (because nearly a decade of fighting can just be smoothed out, right?) and everything would be okay. It had to be okay. Kent wasn't ready to let Jack go just yet.

So he would call. He wouldn't let Jack derail him, he'd say what he needed to say. He'd _apologize_. Like a lot. And maybe Jack would apologize too because they both were at fault. A relationship as ugly as theirs meant there were victims and perpetrators on both sides. They'd both hurt the other, said nasty things, regretful things. Kent was big enough to admit that. And maybe if he apologized first then Jack would apologize too because that was how these things worked.

There was only one thing wrong with Kent's plan, though. He never expected Bitty to be the one to answer Jack's phone.

“SoI'vebeenthinkingandthistimeI'mnotdrunkpleasedon’thanguponme.” He said in a rush before Jack had a chance to even get a word in let alone end the call.

“Uhhh, hey. Ya wanna try that again, but slower?” Came the smooth, confused southern twang of one Eric Bittle.

That gave Kent pause, his train of thought jerking to a stop at the unfamiliar voice. “..... You aren't Jack.”

“Not today, no. Sorry, hun.” Eric still sounded confused. “Who is this?” There was a pause where he presumably looked to the screen. Kent felt his stomach drop because he didn't even have the luxury of anonymity here. Eric would know who he was for sure. And it was foolish to believe Jack had never spoken to the other about his and Kent's history together. When Eric spoke again there was a decidedly potent chill to his voice. “Ah. Kent Parson.”

“Heh, yep! The one and only!” his laughter trailed off and if he thought the other night was bad, this was absolute torture. It was one thing to embarrass himself in front of Jack. Jack knew him, knew he was an idiot wrapped in confidence. It was another altogether to do it on front of The Boyfriend. “So uh, you just answer Jack's phone without looking at who's calling then?” He means it as a joke but he can tell almost immediately that it doesn't come out that way. It's unfortunate he doesn't like Bitty, because he has absolutely no poker face when talking on the phone.

“I do when we're expecting a call from his mother. You just call Jack outta the blue now?” Bitty asked in reply.

“I can call Jack when I want to you know, it's a free country.” He was such an asshole, oh my god, he was an asshole. A four year old little shit asshole.

“I guess that excuses you for calling him in the middle of the night, too, huh?” Bitty's voice is tight. “And drunk as a skunk, no less.”

“I guess it does, _huh_.” Kent bit back, mocking the lilting vowels in Bitty's accent and hating himself for it the whole time.

“Oh, you insufferable child.” Bitty hissed. He was sensitive about his accent and while he didn't mind the boys chirping him about it, he wouldn't stand for _Jack's ex_ making fun of him. “Now you listen up mister, I will not let you just… just call up and-!”

“Alright well I don't have time for entertaining children so just tell Jack I called, ‘kay? Thanks boo, kiss kiss.” he hung up in the middle of Bitty's absolutely scandalized gasp and while that kind of felt good (hell, who was he kidding, it felt amazing) he knew he'd made a pretty big mistake. Which was another thing he would have to fix… god he was just digging his hole deeper and deeper.

It was no surprise when he got a text from Jack a few hours later.

>> I can put up with a lot from you, Parse, but I won't stand for you being ugly to Bitty.

Well that was one way to get Jack to talk to him. Probably not the… _best_ way. But effective nonetheless.

>> i was perfectly civil to the kid  
>> not my fault he can't take a joke

>> I haven't laughed at your ‘jokes’ in a very long time, Kent.

>> and whose fault is that????  
>> listen, im Sorry okay? i won't be mean to the little boyfriend anymore  
>> he just caught me off guard. i figured you would pick him up, not him  
>> pick up***  
>> the phone that is  
>> haha you already picked /him/ up wink wink  
>> lollllllllll amiright?????  
>> no?  
>> not even a french-canadien chortle????  
>> hello?  
>> uuuuuuughhhhhhhghhghfhdhgjjh  
>> do i need to fucking apologize to him or something?????  
>> zimms, come on. im sorry, alright?  
>> ffs  
>> Jack?  
>> … fine.

Kent had gotten more and more frustrated throughout the day as Jack refused to answer his messages. He even called once but it went to voicemail. It was ridiculous, Kent had apologized. He'd said he was sorry (he kind of wasn't), that he was only joking (here he definitely wasn't) and still he got nothing in return. Just radio silence. Kent had gone out of his way to double text like he was fucking grade A thirsty and still! Nothing!

What a mess.

Kent took his frustrations out on the ice. This was not surprising for either him or any other hockey player. It was an easy place to let loose and burn off some energy. At practice he was brutish, not entirely clean but definitely faster on his feet as he skated around his teammates. He was hard on the puck, broke two sticks, checked one of his teammates a bit harder than intended then pulled him up telling him to skate it off. He ran drills until they complained then finally let them out, and though they weren't as friendly towards him as they often were, he felt better for the exercise as a whole. Still, he stayed behind awhile longer to really wear himself out. He had energy to burn and it wasn't going to go anywhere if he sat at home on his couch. He knew if he did that, he'd just end up calling Jack again, or vague-tweeting about this like he was back in highschool again. And dammit, he was better than that.

He had two Stanley cups under his belt and was chasing a third. He was captain of a new though incredibly strong NHL team. He was a fucking _multimillionaire_ with an awesome physique, an endearing cowlick, and a silver tongue that usually got him anything he wanted.

So why, after he finally dragged his worn out body home, did he still find himself trolling Eric's account on instagram? Why did he do this to himself? Did he enjoy pain?

If his practice today was anything to go by the answer was a big resounding yes.

Eric's - or Bitty as Jack had called him - most recent post was of them together hiking. That probably explained why Jack didn't bother texting him back. The Falconers had a down week for games and it seemed Jack was using one of his free days to spend time with the Beau. They were at some national park a few hours away and Eric had taken a selfie with them in front of a small waterfall.

#mountainmen #werkit #youjellyboo #kisskiss

Kent nearly spit out his drink. In fact, he was fairly certain some DID come out and spattered all over his phone screen. He set his drink quickly aside, cleaned off his screen, and reread the hashtags one more time to be sure they said what he thought they said. Lo and behold they did and Kent had to admit he was pretty impressed. Bitty could dish it out as well as he could take it apparently and though Kent still hated his stupid pretty face, he kind of had a bit more respect for him too.

A slew of Falconers and SMH members liked the photo as well a whole mess of other people (Bitty had quite the following, probably because he was one of the best sources for JZimm candids) and Kent only hesitated a brief moment before double tapping the picture and throwing his handle into the pile of likes. He almost withdrew it, wanting to hold onto the seething jealousy and bubbling hate a bit longer but he could already feel it tempering out. He didn't like the kid, far from it, but he'd lost today's fight and he could admit it. It was kind of nice seeing the other bite back, if he was being honest. Jack deserved someone who could hold their own next to the supernovae that he was. Kent intended it to be him in the end, but it was good to find a worthy adversary.

His miniscule humility paid off in the end as he heard his phone chirp with an incoming text just as he was drifting off to sleep.

From: Zimms  
>> chortle chortle chortle

_____

_How do you do?_ _  
_ _There's been years between us._

_____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! I felt much more in the swing of things with Kent this time around. I really love the relationship between him and Bitty and had a ton of fun writing it. Can't wait for everything that will come next!
> 
> Song: Those Days Are Gone and My Heart Is Breaking by Barton Carroll (https://youtu.be/xkn6Df9qpT8)
> 
> Come scream about things with me on Tumblr @ ticktockclockwork


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent is an asshole with a heart of gold. All the best assholes are.

What followed was perhaps the strangest month of hate flirting Kent had ever participated in. After the first back and forth on Instagram, Kent had decided he'd back off a bit. He hadn't intended to engage The Boyfriend and while the challenge of besting the other blond in a battle of social media wits was enticing, the connection he was  _ finally _ making with Jack was tenuous and he doubted he'd be able to rebuild it again if he fucked it up now. So he took a breath, conceded that Bitty had taken this round, and given them space.

Except it wasn't that easy. Space was such a relative term. If it was all physical, ‘space’ was simple. It was leaving a person alone. It was not blowing up their phone. It was allowing them the time to recenter themselves without you in the picture. And Kent had already been doing that for years. Him contacting Jack was a fairly new occurrence. They'd gone years without speaking to one another. Kent could do that kind of space.

But those lines blurred with social media. What constituted space when you could follow a person's life without ever having to talk to them? What was space to a person who lived a public life. The NHL wasn't exactly the cream of the crop amongst pro sports and there were only so many Crosbys or Gretzkys that could show up per season. Most players who weren't destined for greatness (or the greatest downfall) lived in relative anonymity.

But Jack was the first openly out hockey player with an incredibly public and open gay relationship. Not only that, where Jack would normally shy away from any kind of spotlight except the light he created himself, Bitty seemed to embrace it. He wasn't the shaky boy from the small town South that everyone wanted to make him out to be. He'd long since adopted the idea of ‘if you can't beat 'em, outsmart them’ and was doing it with serious aplomb. It was impressive, the kind of control he had over his story, Jack's story, and now… their story together.

So that brings us back to the question of space. Bitty and Jack's relationship was highly public and not only that, but Kent existed in a very niche sphere alongside them. Jack coming out to the public paved the way for many others to come out, including Kent awhile after his warning from the couple, though no one was really surprised by that. What it did, though, was unintentionally bring them closer. Now the two spheres surrounding them were overlapping more and more. Kent and Jack were both in the NHL, both publicly queer, both stars on their respective teams. Kent had held the C for a few years now and while Jack hadn't quite gotten his, everybody agreed it was only a matter of time. Their worlds were overlapping more and more each day so while Kent could easily give them physical space where he lived on the other side of the country in a different timezone, digital space was much harder to come by.

Kent followed Bitty on twitter three days after their first bit of contact. He was proud of the fact that it took him that long given he'd read Bitty's tweets for four hours that next morning. Bitty had an impressive following on twitter, both from his own accomplishments and then from his association with Jack, but Kent had no doubt that despite the fact that he would just be one of nearly two hundred thousand, his follow would not go unnoticed.

It hadn't. Not an hour later Bitty vagueblogged to the world.

**@omgcheckplease** : oh how the tables have turned…… 

Kent had almost unfollowed him right there.

But it wasn't that easy. As much as Kent wanted to hate the kid, Bitty made it incredibly hard. He was funny, which was obvious right from the start. He was sharp witted, took no shit from the, frankly, irritatingly large amount of homophobic hate he got, but most of all… he was just happy. And he made Jack happy. Jack had staunchly avoided getting a Twitter and that still stood to this day but he had an Instagram and where once he only posted detached landscapes or stark black and whites, now his account was filled with pictures of Bitty, of his friends from Samwell, of his team,  _ of himself. _

Bitty caused a change to blossom in Jack, and not an altogether bad one. It became clear quite quickly to Kent that the feelings he had for Bitty were not hate, as he had originally wanted. Instead it was jealousy. Kent had wanted to be that person to bring out the best in Jack. Instead he'd been the one who found him on the floor nearly dead so many years ago.

So no, Kent couldn't hate Bitty, not even at his worst.

Thus, he followed him. First on twitter, then on Instagram. Seeing pictures of the two of them was hard only for a little bit then Jack's smile outweighed Kent's jealousy. Kent  _ wanted _ Jack happy. Bitty did that. Maybe one day Kent could do that again too.

His relationship with Bitty tiptoed slowly after that initial follow. Sometimes it would be a simple ‘like’ from one to the other. Kent would post a picture of Kit or Bitty would show off the B+ he'd gotten on his French midterm and they'd toss one over board to the other, a simple recognition that they existed to one another, that their spheres indeed overlapped.

They never openly talk to each other, though.

That was until they did.

**@omgcheckplease** : sick of omelettes for bfast. gone are the days of french toast and maple syrup 

**@therealkennyp** : **@omgcheckplease** take it from me, kid, u need all the protein you can get

He'd sent it on a whim, the chirp a familiar one. Jack hadn't always been creative with his jabs and Bitty hadn't been the first to hear that particular one either. He'd kind of regretted it after he'd sent it because it could so clearly be misconstrued as mocking. Kent really did know from experience, though, that someone small like Bitty would need to put on some more weight if he was going to be in top form. Last Kent had seen him, he was  _ small _ . Kent had learned the hard way that small got you speed, but earned you a lot more bruises.

He was contemplating following it up with another tweet, something less brittle and sharp, but he never got the chance.

**@omgcheckplease: @therealkennyp** i’ll watch my left, you watch yours. i ain't the one tripping over my own players cause i can't move fast enough

Kent laughed. Like a lot. Because he HAD tripped over his own players, literally. They'd played the Coyotes the weekend before and Kent hadn’t had his best game. He'd been sluggish, a mixture of stress and a lack sleep making his movements slower than he was known for. It had resulted in him getting tangled up in the sticks of his defensemen, taking them all down to the ice and creating an opening for Arizona to score.

**@therealkennyp: @omgcheckplease** touche. maybe i should be talking to your nutritionist then instead. what was it, french toast and maple syrup?

**@omgcheckplease: @therealkennyp** don't worry sweetheart, ill send you the recipe

There was no stopping it from there. Sometimes they'd reply to one another, sometimes it was a simple retweet when one of them was funny (Bitty more often than not). Bitty got some hate for being snippy with Kent but Kent shut that down real quick. Kent was allowed to be rude to Bitty, not anyone else.

They chirped back and forth, everything bordering on Almost Too Much but never crossed some unwritten line. Kent didn't call Jack anymore, but would send him a ‘good luck’ or ‘congrats’ text now and again. Sometimes he even got one in return. Sometimes Kent's heart raced from Jack all over again. Sometimes Kent got hopeful.

Three weeks passed into five, one month into two. Winter slowly crept up on everyone and soon Bitty's tweets switched to complaints about the cold, recipes for the holidays, nerves about finals. He was graduating this year and though he tried to keep those discussions to a minimum on his twitter, every once in awhile, it seemed he couldn't help himself.

**@omgcheckplease** : trying not to disappoint everyone means you're bound to disappoint someone  
**@omgcheckplease** : i don't know what to do

Kent stared at the tweets for a very long time. Something in him twisted but he didn't have a name for it. He hadn't seen Bitty show this kind of vulnerability on twitter before. Sometimes he would, in angry tweets or heavy sarcasm. But he'd long learned to shield himself from any potential hurt from all the people who hated him for ‘turning’ Jack gay. Showing this kind of opening was rare. And unexpected.

And deleted within ten minutes of posting.

Kent blinked as he refreshed the page, wondering if there was a glitch with the app. But no, Bitty had deleted the messages already. A quick glance at the clock told him it was nearly one in the morning on the east coast so Bitty had posted that in the middle of the night, on a Wednesday. He was probably at Samwell. He was probably in his room, alone. Jack was in New York playing the Islanders that next day so he definitely wasn't with him.

The feeling in Kent's gut twisted.

DM **@omgcheckplease** : hey, you alright kid?

His thumb hovered over the send button for awhile while he chewed his lip and debated. This was crossing The Line. They didn't talk directly, both of them taking comfort in the public pressure that stood between them when they tweeted to each other openly. There was no show in what Kent was about to do, no benefit that would come from this. There would be no way this could be misconstrued as a farce for his fans because his fans would not be seeing it. Only The Boyfriend.

Only Bitty.

He hit send.

And he waited.

After an hour, Kent decided he was being ignored. He didn't blame the other but it did still sting. Rejection after being the one to reach out always hurt. He sighed and gave up on his phone, pulling off his clothes to take a shower instead. The feeling sat with him as the hot water beat down on his shoulders though he chose to ignore that too. Nothing good would come from exploring that more. So he left it alone.

But when he was dressed again and had collapsed into bed, his phone was blinking with a new unread text. He frowned, not reaching for it yet. Kit had crawled up to lounge on his chest and he stroked her fur as he decided whether he would check the text. A thrill had gone through him, though, when he'd first seen the alert because Kent didn't believe in coincidences. They just didn't happen.

Technically it could be from anyone. It wasn't that late here on the west coast and a lot of his friends were night owls like him. It could be from anyone. But it wasn't. He knew it wasn't.

It was Jack. He was sure of it.

Bitty must have told Jack that Kent had crossed the line, that he was talking to him, that he was annoying. Maybe Jack texted to tell him he had it covered, that it was his job to comfort his boyfriend, and that Kent needed to step off. Maybe he was texting to tell Kent that he wanted him out of his life for good. Kent didn't know. All he knew was that it had to be Jack. What a nightmare.

What he got instead surprised him. It was an unknown number. He had two texts from an unknown number and he was afraid of opening it because if it wasn't Jack then it was Bitty.

>> No, I'm not okay.  
>> Clearly, I'm texting my boyfriends ex, that's how not okay I am.

Kent felt himself suck in a breath and hold it as he read and reread the texts a few times. He sat up, dislodging Kit but he needed to be alert for this. Things were changing, the ground shifting a bit underneath him, and he honestly had no idea where it would go. He tried for self deprecating honesty. He was pretty good at that.

>> if it makes u feel any better, im like the King of Not Okay so i could probably give you some advice  
>> just to be sure, tho, this is-

He paused and frowned, trying to remember Bitty's first name. In his head he called him The Boyfriend and online He was always Bitty. They'd spoken before on the phone right before Jack had come out and at the time he had been introduced as Eric. He had to go look him up on twitter to be sure before he finished the text.

>> just to be sure, tho, this is Eric right? Jacks bf?

Kent waited, chewing his lip nervously.

>> Yeah.

>> how did you get my #  
>> not angry, just curious

>> I got it from Jack's phone. He doesn't know. But I wanted it in case

Kent waited for the rest of the text to come because the last one sounded unfinished. Bitty getting his number from Jack's phone without Jack's knowledge was questionable and Kent was actually surprised Bitty admitted it. It showed that he trusted Kent enough to know he wouldn't go blab to Jack. Or maybe he was just having the kind of night where he didn't even realize he'd given Kent an upper hand. Regardless, the text was left unfinished and Kent grew impatient.

>> in case of what?

>> Idk  
>> In case you call him again and he has another panic attack?  
>> In case something happens that only you know how to fix?  
>> In case I need to call and yell at you because you're an asshole sometimes?  
>> Idk, just in case.

The rapid string of texts made him stop. They were raw and brutal and just that side of  _ not okay _ that Kent would otherwise fight. But he could recognize when someone was deflecting and it was clear Bitty had needed to say that, if only to avoid talking about the real problem. And maybe Kent had needed to hear it.

>> ah

>> Sorry.

>> don't be.  
>> ur right.  
>> i am an asshole.

>> I don't think you like being one though.

>> what does that mean?

Another long pause before Bitty replied.

>> Nothing.  
>> I'm sorry I texted you, I shouldn't have.  
>> Goodnight.

“Ugh!” Kent groaned, throwing his phone to the bed, startling Kit again who jumped from the bed with a string of complaints. This was the one side of texting that Kent absolutely hated. Intent never got across properly. You couldn't read intonation or facial features over text so instead you were just left to wonder. It was awful. And Kent was frustrated enough to do something about it. He picked his phone back up, opened the messages, and hit call before he could really think about what he was doing.

Bitty picked up on the third ring but Kent didn't let him speak. “Don't hang up on me.” He said rapidly, ignoring the dash of deja vu he was feeling. “What do you mean you don't think I like being an asshole?” He demanded.

The silence stretched for a while but Kent could tell Bitty was still there. He sniffed every few seconds and though he wasn't currently crying, he could tell he had been not long ago. He gave him the time though, tempering his impatience so Bitty could collect himself. “Every time you hurt Jack, it's clear it hurts you too. No stable person is that masochistic.” Bitty was weighing his words, careful in a way he wasn't over text. “I don't think you or Jack know how to be anything to each other besides ugly.”

Kent heard himself snort as he rubbed his eyes, the frown deepening on his brow. “Wow. Tell me what you really think.” He muttered.

“It's how I feel.” And his voice sounded so small that Kent tumbled just a little bit lower.

“Yeah, I never said you were wrong. Just haven't had someone say it so bluntly to me before.” He heaved another deep sigh and sunk down against the pillows. He kept his eyes closed, trying to get whatever he was feeling in his chest to behave itself. “I didn't call to talk about my assholery. You said you're not okay. What's wrong?”

Silence dragged once again but it wasn't as tense this time around. Bitty was collecting his thoughts and Kent didn't feel the need to push. He rest his hand on his belly and let out a breath, closing his eyes. When Bitty spoke again it sounded like he was being careful with his words. He didn't trust Kent yet and Kent could respect that. “I'm graduating soon. I’ll have a degree in sociology, American studies really, but it's fairly generic. It's kind of like a polysci major, yanno?” Kent didn't know but he made an agreeable sound anyways, just to keep Bitty talking. His accent was thick right now. Kent could see how disarming it could be in other circumstances.

“So I got this kinda generic degree, no real work experience behind me besides summer camp and skating lessons, and I basically don't have any idea what I want to do after graduation.” He huffed and it sounded like he'd turned into his pillows, his voice a bit more muffled.

“What, don't want to move in with Jack and be a sugar baby?” Kent teased, only half meaning it. The disgusted sound Bitty gave in return won him some points in Kent's book.

“Being at the mercy of another ain't really my style anymore.” He replied fiercely. “Even if that person loves you.” Kent hoped that maybe one day Bitty wouldn't hate him so much so he could ask about that but for now he just hummed in approval instead. “I'm being scouted.” Bitty added in a very, very small voice.

“For the NHL?” Here Kent perked up. All the other stuff was hard for him to relate to. He'd never gone to college and he'd always known what he'd wanted to be since he was a kid. But hockey he knew.

“Yeah, they've been to a few of our games. I've gotten some emails and phone calls too.”

“Have you told Zimms- er, Jack yet?”

“..... No.”

It was Kent's turn to fall quiet as he chewed over all this information. “I'm not surprised. That you're getting scouted. Not that you haven't told Jack. I don't know if I'd tell him right away either. He gets kind of…”

“Intense.”

A rush of air left his lungs on a laugh. “Yeah. Intense.” A sense of understanding passed between them, a shared history. Jack, their one connection, which felt much less like a burning bridge than it had an hour ago. “But yeah, I'm not surprised about the scouts. You're fast, Eric. You're fast and precise. Not the best but you have a hell of a lot of potential. Teams should be fighting for you.” Kent had seen him play when he'd looked up videos of Jack at Samwell. Bitty WAS fast and Kent bet with good reason. You didn't grow up short and slight without some scars to show for it. Bitty didn't ask how he knew, though, and Kent didn't offer. “Have the Falconers….?” He let the question hang.

“... Yeah.” Bitty admitted. “They were one of the firsts. They saw me play with Jack a few years back and say that they'd like me to play on his line again.” That twisted something in Kent's heart that he could easily recognize as jealousy but it didn't last long because in an even smaller voice Bitty whispered “I don't want to play on Jack's line.”

“What?” He winced at his own tone, took a breath, and tried again. “What do you mean? Don't you like playing with him?”

“Oh, I loved it. I loved it more than I could ever imagine. I loved it when it was good, that is. But it wasn't always good. Jack gets… intense, like you said. And removing hockey between us had helped us learn how to deal with that intensity. But I don't know if we’d last if we were both dealing with the same intensity and we didn't have each other for support. Jack can get… well, he can get mean. Especially when he's trying to prove himself. And I think he'd have a lot to prove if his very small, very gay boyfriend was put on his line. He'd have to prove he wouldn't go easy on me. He'd have to prove that I wasn't there just because of him. He'd have to prove that I wasn't a liability. I don't think we… I don't think  _ I  _ could handle that.” Bitty fell quiet and Kent was struck once again with just mature Bitty was.

“Wow. Well…”

“Does that make me a terrible boyfriend? Oh gosh I probably sound like the worst.” He worried and Kent quickly spoke up to cut him off.

“No. No no, I was just… well. If you can recognize that then you're doing a hell of a lot better than I was at your age. I'm just… well I'm impressed Eric.”

Bitty hummed and shifted around in his bed which Kent took as permission to move around on his too. He curled up on his side, picking at a loose thread. “You don't have to know what you want right away, you know.” Kent murmured softly to him in the silence that followed. He wasn't sure where the sympathy was coming from but it was there nonetheless, softening the curves of Kent's words, wrapping them in something else, in something new.

“That's what I keep telling myself. Just doesn't always stick.”

Kent smiled. “Well, maybe you should take your own advice then. From what I can tell, you have some pretty good stuff to give.”

Bitty huffed his own laugh and Kent could swear he heard a smile on it as well. He didn't say anything after that and Kent found he didn't mind. Listening to Bitty breath on the other line was something of a comfort. Surprising and small.

“I should probably go to sleep.” Bitty finally whispered. When Kent looked at his clock, he saw it was nearly three in the morning for Bitty.

“Yeah, kid. Probably. You'll feel better.”

“Hm… yeah. Thank you, Kent. For… well. Yeah.”

“Yeah… goodnight Eric.” He whispered, unable to hang up right away.

Bitty didn't either. Instead he hesitated before finally saying. “You can call me Bitty… all my friends do.” One more soft goodbye was uttered while Kent fell quiet out of shock before the other hung up. Kent shut his own off, plugged it in, flipped off the lights, then finally laid down.

Friends.

Friends with Bitty.

Well, fuck.

___  
_ Didn't we have big ideas when our school was done? _ __  
_ We'd leave our smaller minds and move out to Oregon. _ __  
__ But I was the only one who went the road less taken.  
_ ___ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry this chapter took so long. I've had a busy week. Also this one like doubled the word count so it took a tad longer, whoops. I've tried to make sure there are no inconsistencies with plot but if I missed something, my apologies! Also I took some liberties with the scouts and junk. It's going to play a part in this story and im kind of twisting it to fit in with what I need. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are massively appreciated!!
> 
> Song: Those Days Are Gone and My Heart Is Breaking by Barton Carroll (https://youtu.be/xkn6Df9qpT8)
> 
> Come scream about things with me on Tumblr @ ticktockclockwork


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent falls further down the rabbit hole.

Things returned to normal as the holidays came upon them. Kent spent thanksgiving in New York with his mother and sister, but was back in Vegas that next night to prepare for a game a day later. If he was being honest, he liked having work as an excuse to leave. He adored his sister and loved his mother but things had always been tense between them. It was an inability to communicate, his therapist told him when they'd finally gotten to discussing the parentals. His father had been a short discussion, he'd left when Kent was a child. But his relationship with his mother took quite a few sessions to work out. They were too similar, it was decided, needing the same things from each other, usually at the same time, and thus failing to fulfill that need or have it fulfilled in turn. Kent's sister had the unfortunate role of bridging the gap between mother and son and Kent made sure to thank her for it frequently.

All in all it made holidays stressful and Kent was happy to be back home, where it wasn't cold, where his cat wound around his ankles, where he could freak out in peace.

Because while his routine was returning to normal, his weeks of emotional stress over Jack finally coming to an end, this new thing with  _ Jack's boyfriend _ was something else altogether. Bitty and Kent were still snappy to one another on twitter but a lot of the vitriol had burned out of their interactions. People caught on fairly quickly that Kent and Bitty were becoming more than just twitter enemies and though some of the rumors about Kent and Jack resurfaced, most of it was just speculation.

Kent found the infidelity rumors to be the funniest. “When would I have had time to fly out to Vegas to sleep with you when I barely have time to sleep with my own boyfriend?” Bitty had said when Kent called to do some damage control, the smaller blondes tone exasperated. Kent could hear him rolling his eyes. They talked about what-ifs, how they would answer questions if asked, what they should do if something was said that really hurt them, but ultimately it was decided that it would probably blow over and that they should ignore it for now. Even Jack agreed, which was what had settled it.

Phone calls between Kent and Bitty had become more frequent too. A week after their first tête-a-tête Bitty called again. He was spending the weekend at Jack's, studying for finals but had been open with Jack about his communications with Kent. Kent could understand; it wouldn't be fair to keep that from Jack and have him find out some other way outside of their control. Kent couldn't entirely ignore the disappointment he felt towards Jack knowing, though. It wasn't like he and Bitty ever talked about anything terrible. There wasn't any reason to keep it from Jack. Except… Bitty was the first person he could talk to who understood things. Most of these things were Jack, yes, but not always.

Bitty understood struggling in school, for one. Kent hadn't gone to college but he'd barely graduated high school and struggling academically hadn't been something Jack ever related to. He excelled at everything he put his mind to, and college had been no different.

Bitty, on the other hand, knew exactly what it felt like. High school had been rough for him. He didn't say as much but Kent got the impression it wasn't just grades that made it difficult. College had been his ticket out of Georgia and the obvious next step for a person who had no idea of what they wanted to do with their future. Bitty struggled to keep his grades up and every so often, when he was getting overwhelmed, he called Kent just to have someone tell him he wasn't an idiot for struggling.

“I love Jack to death, but if I hear him tell me one more time that this paper ain't that hard I think I'm gonna scream. I know he means well an’ all but I  _ already _ know it ain't hard. That sure as honey don't make me feel better when I'm strugglin’ anyways!”

Kent had laughed, letting Bitty just vent while he did crunches in his workout room. “You're accent gets ridiculous when you're worked up, you know that?” He offered breathlessly in return, not in the least bit helpful for Bitty's current conundrum but it did the trick with catching Bitty off guard.

“Oh you! Hush, I'm trying to be angry here.”

“Angry? All I hear is Foghorn Leghorn  _ complaining _ about a paper he should be writing instead of just writing said paper.”

“Kenneth Parson, if I was there right now I would whoop your ass for describing me like that.”

“My name isn't Kenneth? Who even told you that?”

“Alright well, this is going nowhere. You have offended me, sir, and I will stand for no more of this.”

“No! Bits wait! Who's Kenneth!?” He called into the speaker phone, laughing as Bitty hung up on him right there.

Beyond academics, they shared a love of trashy reality TV, pop music, warm weather, and strangely enough, a visceral dislike of snow. Kent, being from New York, claimed he had grown up shoveling the drive so much that he was bred to hate it. Bitty said he was too delicate and that God didn't create enough layers to keep him warm in the winter.

Most of all, though, they shared Jack. Kent had history, Bitty had future. And though Bitty sometimes felt bad about it, being about to talk about him, about them, to someone who understood? Well it was a relief. Kent found it soothing as well, old wounds slowly healing in ways he hadn't expected. When he'd first started tossing around the idea of finding something with Jack, be it closure or something new, he'd assumed he'd only be able to find it through his old best friend. That the only way to sort out and move on from him was through him. But having Bitty to talk to, to discuss past hurts and to have Jack explained to him from a different point of view? Well… it was therapeutic.

“Do you talk to Jack about us? About what we talk about?” Kent had asked during one of their late night phone calls. He could hear some deep bass in the background, muffled by floors and walls. They were having a kegster to celebrate the end of the semester but Bitty had ducked out a bit early to talk to Jack, and then to Kent. Kent pretended the swooping in his stomach was from the spicy ramen he'd had earlier for dinner.

Bitty made an agreeable noise on the other end. “I do, yeah. I don't want him to feel like I'm going behind his back with any of this.” It made sense, and Kent could understand it.

“How, ah… uhm. How does he feel? That you're talking to me, and stuff?” He'd been nervous to ask but it had been on his mind for awhile and he desperately needed an answer. He didn't want to make Jack mad, didn't want to ruin whatever was happening between them, but at the same time this thing with Bitty? It was  _ good _ .

“Sometimes he worries. He remembers past hurt like you sometimes do and he gets anxious that you're going to upset me, or hurt me too.”

“I wouldn-” he stops himself because he doesn't know if he would or wouldn't, not really. He was finding out he didn't know himself half as well as he thought he did anymore. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“I know that, sweetheart.” Bitty used epithets as often as he baked pies and it almost always made Kent's heart race. “But unintentional hurts still hurt.” And boy did Kent understand that. Bitty was crawling into bed, though, so Kent dropped his voice and sighed out. “He wasn't… happy. At the start. When I called you about the scouts. I think it hurt him that I didn't tell him. It wasn't intentional but he was still hurt. We talked about it and I think he's starting to understand that it helps me to talk to someone who isn't so close to the situation. That isn't my parents or his parents or him.”

Kent was quiet for too long but he couldn't help it. “We don't just talk about hockey, you know…”

“.... I know. I tell him about the other stuff too. Most of the time.” He could hear Bitty sigh out and turn into his blankets.

Kent didn't want to push. Part of him thrilled that at least something between him and Bitty was just theirs. He worried if he asked about it further that it would ruin this feeling, that Bitty would feel guilty and would talk to Jack anyways. So instead he just made a noncommittal (and definitely not  _ happy _ ) noise and steered the conversation elsewhere. He bid Bitty goodnight a bit later, wished him well on his last final the next day, then let him go so he, too, could get ready for bed.

Except he couldn't, not really. When he set his phone down, fully intending to get up and shower, he instead turned and pressed his face into the pillows groaning so loudly Kit came to investigate. “I'm a fucking idiot. Such a fucking, fucking idiot.” He turned his face and Kit pressed her nose to his. “I just had to go and fall a little bit in love with Eric Bittle.”

It was Jack who called him next, not two days later, and Kent almost tripped off the treadmill when he saw the number. For a moment he thought it might be Bitty calling him, that he'd lost his phone or that Jack's was more convenient. But when he picked up, he heard Jack's familiar throat clearing, his hesitating breaths, his heartbeats loud and clear- oh wait no, that was just Kent's. “Hello?” He asked, out of breath as he paused the treadmill and hopped up so his feet were on either side of the belt.

“Hey.” Jack said in return. Their communication had almost entirely stayed between texts and short of maybe a brief hello or acknowledgment while Kent was talking to Bitty, the last time Kent had talked to Jack for any extended amount of time was months ago when he'd called drunk. To say things were stilted would be an understatement.

“Hi.” He felt stupid, not knowing what to say as he rest his hands on his hips and looked up to the ceiling, breathing heavy. He had his earbuds in, having been listening to music while he ran, but now he just listened to Jack while he struggled to keep the nostalgia and want at bay. “Did, ah.. is everything alright?”

“Yeah… yeah everything's fine. I just…. I thought, ah. Crisse why is this hard?” Kent had to strain to hear that last part but he felt a little bit better knowing he wasn't the only one here who felt out of his element. “I just… thought. That if. Uhm. If you and Bittle are talking. That. Uhm. Maybe we should talk. As well.” Every pause caused Kent to tense, as if at any moment Jack would hesitate long enough to realize he was making a mistake. Kent didn't want him to realize that, didn't want him to leave now that he was finally coming close. So he did what he did best and focused on what was important.

“You call your boyfriend Bittle?”

Jack's pause felt infinite but before Kent could really process it, Jack was laughing. Deep, guffawing laughs coming through the line, familiar and loud and  _ real _ and something broke inside Kent. He literally had to back up off the treadmill and sit down on the weight bench. “Jesus Christ Kent, of course that's what you would focus on. Of course.” There was trailing laughter there, the smile evident in Jack's voice and Kent could feel himself reaching for those sounds as if all these years between them didn't exist.

“Well you know me.” He chuckled in return, breathless for a whole other reason now.

A pause. Painful and long. “....... I used to.” Jack murmured after a beat. The laughter was gone, the smile too, though something else stood in its place. Oh, how Kent wished he was there to see. “I… I want to. Again.”

“You want what?”

“To know you. I think.”

Kent wasn't sure he was hearing things correctly, was convinced he was imagining this. After months of tearing himself up over calling Jack, then finally doing it and fucking things up worse than they were before… after all that, here he was, talking to Jack, reaching forward and bridging the gap between them that not a week before had felt insurmountable. “I think… well I think I want that too.”

Jack didn't say anything in return and Kent didn't either, the two simply… existing. Their spheres were colliding where once they were strictly avoided and Kent feared that any sideways breath would topple what was happening. So he stayed quiet. He let Jack listen and be quiet as well. He rest back against the bench and he closed his eyes and he let himself imagine he was there, lying next to Jack, simply being quiet. Simply being them.

They existed together, thousands of miles apart, for over half an hour. He heard Jack shift from time to time and he knew Jack could hear him as he breathed, but neither made a move to break the blown sugar bubble between them. Kent found he almost felt like crying at one point, his throat growing thick, eyes wet, even as he refused to open them. It was intense, this shared experience, so quiet in fact that Kent wondered if Jack could hear the cacophony of thoughts running through his head.  _ I love you I love you I love you I still love you. _

“Kenny…”

The first word spoken in forever and it was his name,  _ his name,  _ said so softly, so sadly. A good sad. An understanding sad. A recognition of past problems, or past pains sad. Where Jack said his name, he was really saying I’m sorry.

“Zimms…” Kent knew how to apologize too.

And the moment passed. Jack sucked in a breath, let it out, Kent did the same. He thought, then, that Jack would say goodbye, would hang up and go back to what he'd been doing, or Kent would hang up and go back to running. He wasn't sure how he could function after what had just happened, but he knew somehow he would. Instead, though, Jack made up his mind about something and spoke louder. “I have a favor to ask.” He said, tight and unsure. Kent held his breath. “It concerns Bitty…”

_ ___ _

_ I met a girl and I swept her off her feet. _ __   
_ Made her promises I never meant to keep. _ __   
_ There's a mean streak in me. _   
__ Inside a storm was raging.

_____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, imma preface this by saying that I am taking great liberties both with hockey schedules and college schedules. Part of me wants to get it right, line things up, but the other part of me doesn't give a shit. So yeah, there will probably be some inconsistencies there. But it's all done in the name of poly love!
> 
> I brought Jack in more here this time around. He'll make more appearances, I promise. The boys are learning to navigate each other and it's a slow process, but it's working. The fact that Jack is going to ask Kent for anything at all is a step in the right direction.
> 
> Next up: what can Kent possibly provide that Jack needs (besides the d)?
> 
> And as always, your comments make my heart grow ever bigger. My ribcage can't contain it and that's totally okay.
> 
> Song: Those Days Are Gone and My Heart Is Breaking by Barton Carroll (https://youtu.be/xkn6Df9qpT8)
> 
> Also the idea that Bitty makes up names for Kent definitely comes from Tumblr here: http://dadbob.tumblr.com/post/149257312606
> 
> It was too good not to use.
> 
> Come cry with me about precious Kenny P on Tumblr @ ticktockclockwork


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going, going, gone...

Kent paced around his apartment three weeks later, more nervous that he'd been in years. More nervous than he'd been the last time they played for the cup. More nervous than he'd been when he'd called Jack for the first time months and months ago. Nearly five months now, time moving too fast for Kent to really keep up. It made his head hurt thinking about how much had changed, how much would be changing, regardless of how this week went.

His phone chirped in his hand. He hesitated to read it, though he already knew what it said.

>> Here.

A single word and Kent felt like he was going to pass out. Or vibrate out of his skin. He wasn't quite sure. Grabbing his keys and taking one last deep breath, he headed down to his lobby. He took the stairs despite being on the ninth floor. He needed the exercise, he told himself. He did this every day so why would he change his routine now? It wasn't like he was doing this on  _ purpose _ or anything. That would be absurd.

It took him five times as long as just taking the elevator but eventually he stepped out into the lobby, only slightly out of breath. He looked around, swallowing around the lump in his throat until he finally spotted a familiar blond head, tipped down, eyes on his phone.

Bitty.

Bitty, here in Vegas. In his apartment lobby.

He hesitated, unable to bring himself forward. This was bridging a gap he'd been too scared to even think about up until Jack's phone call. It wasn't that he thought this would never happen. He and Bitty were friends and Kent liked to think that he and Jack were getting back to that as well. But up until this point, Kent had the luxury of distance between them that only, rarely, changed when one or the other had a game on their side of the country. Never had he considered that they'd be in proximity by choice, and for a whole week no less.

It had been easier to set up than Kent imagined it could be. Jack had called him, back before Christmas, to tell him Bitty was being scouted by the Aces. Even more surprising, Bitty was actually considering it. The Aces agreed to fly him out, just to see the arena, meet the team, maybe play a round with them. They'd already made their intent clear, they wanted him on their team, this visit was for Bitty's benefit, to see if he wanted them back. Jack sounded excited, which shocked Kent. There was pride on his voice and though they didn't even begin to discuss what life would be like if Bitty lived out here in Vegas too, Kent could tell Jack was thinking about it. But it couldn't dampen how excited for Bitty Jack was.

What an amazing opportunity, he'd said. Multiple teams were asking about him. He already had a contract offer.

They didn't talk about the Falconer's, although Kent already knew Bitty had politely turned them down.

The Aces were only bringing Bitty out for a few days, a Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday block between games. But Bitty had wanted to see the city, nervous to move somewhere so very far from home, somewhere with such a reputation. He wanted to see if he could even live there, let alone play an incredibly stressful and demanding job there for an indeterminate about of time. So he was getting there Friday afternoon, instead, would spend a few days exploring Las Vegas then spend the rest of his trip with the team.

Jack had called to ask if Kent could meet up with Bitty, maybe pick him up from the airport just so he had someone he knew waiting for him when he landed. He hadn't been able to pick him up, Bitty's arrival conflicting with his morning practice, but he could be there to meet him after. In fact, because Kent was EXACTLY the masochistic idiot Bitty had mentioned before, why didn't Bitty stay with him those first few days. Kent was happy to show him around. He'd lived there long enough that he knew all the non-tourist places to visit and hey, optional skates were optional, he could take a few days off.

Staring at Bitty now, he had to wonder what the hell he was thinking.

He couldn't bring himself to move forward and at some point Bitty lifted his head to look at him. He blinked those big brown eyes, warmer and richer than any photo could show, though he didn't go to meet Kent either. They just looked at each other, Kent holding his breath, wondering if Bitty was holding his too.

“Hi, Kent.” Bitty broke the spell first, speaking, though still not approaching. It was his olive branch, tentative and small, and finally,  _ finally _ Kent moved forward to accept it.

“Hey Bits. Welcome to Vegas.”

They rode the elevator back up to Kent's apartment, Kent taking Bitty's bag from him despite Bitty's protest. They were both quiet in the uncomfortable way people get when they know they should be talking but all conservation topics seem inadequate in the face of what stood between them. Twice Bitty's phone beeped, texts that he answered with rapid fire fingers. Kent spied Jack's name but didn't remark.

Kit greeted them at the door and her appearance was what officially broke the tension. Bitty gasped and crouched and Kent watched with soft amusement as Kit wove around Bitty's knees and ankles, soaking up the attention. “Oh, darlin’, you're so much prettier in real life. Ohhhhh, you're so sweet, Instagram does not do you justice.” Bitty cooed and Kent bit his lip. He'd been thinking the exact same thing about Bitty.

“She's an attention whore, be careful. She'll take advantage of you.” Kent warned, guiding them into the apartment.

Bitty had scooped the cat up and was cradling her to his chest, nuzzling her fur. “Don't listen to your papa, Miss Kit. You are a perfectly respectable southern belle and I won't let him tarnish your good reputation.” Bitty's accent was so thick, Kent thought it might be dipped in honey.

Bitty moved into the living room without guidance while Kent dropped his bag off in the guest room. When he came back out, Bitty was slouched on the couch with Kit on his chest, kissing her front paws. She looked absolutely delighted, purring up a storm. “She loves me already.” Bitty stated triumphantly, grinning at Kent.

“Of that, I had no doubt.” The words were out before Kent could stop them, though he wasn't sure Bitty heard him. His attention was already back on Kit, though his cheeks were a touch more pink. “Are you hungry? You left early this morning right?”

“Mm.” Bitty said with a nod, nudging Kit onto her cat tree then standing. “I ate during my layover in Dallas but it wasn't very good. I don't get much of an appetite when I'm flying.”

“Afraid of heights?” He asked jokingly.

“No. Confined spaces.”

Kent stopped to look at Bitty but the other had already turned to go to his bag. “Give me a minute to freshen up? I smell like airplane.” Kent nodded and watched Bitty close the door for privacy. He let out a rush of air then turned to get himself something to drink, feeling fidgety and wired. Having Bitty in his space, in his  _ home _ was strange, was tilting, made him feel like his world was shifting. It was hard to stay focused with his thoughts zipping around so much. His phone drew his attention, though, as a text came in.

>> How is he?

It was Jack. Kent frowned and looked up to the guest room then back to his phone.

>> fine??? idk he's changing.   
>> were going to get lunch  
>> should he not be fine?

>> He's very nervous.  
>> Don't tell him I said anything.

>> your boy will be fine  
>> the team isn't that scary  
>> he's a good athlete anyways

>> That's not why he's nervous.

“Alright, sorry, I'm ready now.” Bitty was just stepping out of the bedroom, having changed into a lighter pair of jeans and a comfortable t-shirt. He had a thin hoodie over his arm, though Kent doubted he would need it. The desert was hot during the day, even during winter. It wasn't until the sun set that the chill set in.

Kent took him out to a small Mexican restaurant away from the strip. Despite what many believed, Kent's car wasn't terribly showy. Just a standard compact. When Bitty asked about all the tabloid photos of him climbing out of Maseratis, he laughed. “Rentals, babe. Why own a toy you only play with once when you can just rent one any time you want?”

Bitty had just snorted and shook his head, looking away with an expression Kent had been unable to read. Through lunch they talked, most of the conversation running over neutral topics. Bitty's classes, his final semester, Kent's childhood, Georgia peaches and a shared love of summer. Kent had Bitty giggling over a story from his childhood where he ate so many raspberries once his mouth was red for two straight days, the tips of his fingers too, and slowly the tension between them, the nerves Bitty had brought with him all the way from Samwell began to quiet down. Kent was thankful for that. He was finding that Bitty's laugh was something wonderful and he already yearned to hear it again.

“Can we drive up the strip? Do you mind?” Bitty asked as they left the restaurant. He was turned towards it, the tip of Paris Las Vegas visible over the buildings surrounding them. He was twisting the string on the hoody still in his hands, hair catching the breeze.

How could Kent say no? “Sure. It's not as spectacular during the day, when none of the lights are on though.”

“That's okay. I don't want to see spectacular. I just want to see it as it is.” Bitty turned to him, smiled for just a moment too long, then turned and headed back towards Kent's car.

Despite the lack of lights, Bitty seemed to enjoy the drive. The traffic was horrible, not so surprising for a Friday afternoon close to quitting time, but it gave Bitty time to look at everything which Kent was more than happy to provide. He described some of the casinos they passed, a little of the history, but mostly he stayed quiet, watching Bitty when he could. Music played quietly in the background and in the reflection of the window Kent could see Bitty track the passing of a woman dressed entirely in sequins, two men kissing for a selfie, kids running along the fountain in front of the Bellagio.

“Wanna see Britney with me tomorrow?” Kent asked when they turned off the main drag and back onto some of the smaller neighborhoods. Bitty was just as interested in these as he was with the glitter and glam of the strip.

The mention of the pop star drew his attention, though. “What?”

“Britney. Spears. She performs at Planet Hollywood. I can get us tickets if you'd like to go.”

Bitty blinked owlishly at him for so long that Kent worried he might have said something wrong. “Kensington Parson-”

“My name isn't-”

“Did you seriously just offer to take me to see Britney Spears, queen of my entire childhood, and somehow still think I'd ever say no?”

“Well… I didn't want to imply infidelity towards your current monarch, Queen Bey.” Kent replied with a big grin, unable to help himself.

Bitty actually gasped at that, pressing his hand to his chest in true southern belle style. “I would never. But I think she would be okay with me seeing Britney. So, yeah, duh, I would love to go. Like…  _ love _ to go.” He emphasised the word with a slight widening of his eyes, making Kent laugh once again.

“Got it. I'll call for tickets tonight.”

Kent drove him around for awhile more, stopping at some of the tourist spots so Bitty could take photos. He seemed to be opening up some, embracing Vegas a little more than he had when he first arrived. By the time they headed back to the apartment, Bitty's jet lag was kicking in and he was drowsy in the front seat.

Seeing the lights off the strip, now fully illuminated since the sun had set, catching on the soft ride if Bitty's cheeks? Well that was something else.

“I need to stay awake. I don't want to go to bed at seven then wake up at four and be tired for the show tomorrow.” Bitty declared when they entered the apartment. He'd pulled on his hoody once the sun had started to set but was tugging it off now that they were back home. He tossed it unceremoniously on the couch and Kent had to pull his eyes away from it, to the kitchen instead.

“I'll make coffee. Put on whatever you'd like.” He waved to the TV setup he had in the living room but Bitty followed him to the kitchen instead.

“Can we just talk instead?” when Kent turned around Bitty was sitting at his breakfast bar, cheek propped up on his hand, looking drowsy but sun warm. “Figured we might as well, yanno…. Since I'm here.” He yawned, his nose wrinkling up.

“If you think you'll actually stay awake.” Kent replied with a chuckle though he was keeping a safe distance between himself and Bitty.

“Hush, you. I'm good.”

“Alright, what do you want to talk about?” Kent asked as he set the coffee to brew.

“Hmmm…. When did you know you were gay?”

Kent sputtered, turning around with a disbelieving laugh. “What?!”

Bitty was grinning big, mischievous. “What? Isn't that was all queer kids talk about these days?” Kent could tell Bitty was just enjoying Kent's reaction and wasn't actually serious with his question.

“Well, if you must know.” He replied haughtily instead. “I'm pan, and I figured that out like two years ago when I heard the terminology for the first time. So there.” He pretended to flip his hair over his shoulder, making Bitty giggle.

“What did you think you were before you found out you were pan?” Bitty asked instead, pulling one of Kent's fancy napkins over to rip at the corner. He paused then glanced up. “Jack doesn't really like talking about it. He doesn't much like lookin’ backwards.”

Watching Bitty for a long moment, he decided how he felt like describing it. “Jack wasn't my first. It was some kid in middle school. He was a bully but I think I was in love with him. After him it was a guy named Francis. I thought, then, that I must be gay. Buy then there was Sheila, then Bethany, then Will, and then Jack. So then I figure bi. But like, hand wavey bi. Like it never felt like it totally fit, but eh? It worked well enough. But I mostly just like people. And I like sex. So once I found a broader term than bisexual, then I kind of latched on.” It was weird going through the list and not feeling like he was going to throw up. The only other people who usually asked about it were ones angling for an interesting sound bite.

Bitty's cheeks were flushed, just a little, but he didn't look away. “I figured it out in highschool, maybe the end of my sophomore year. I think I would have figured it out sooner, but I was scared to even think the word gay. Then one day I gave a pretty pathetic handjob to a boy named Hayden and it was pretty hard to pass it off as athletic interest and boyish respect.” He said with a humorless chuckle. He shook his head and rubbed his face and while the coffee was being, Kent went ahead and handed Bitty a beer. He looked like he needed it. “I said the words out loud for the first time to Shitty my freshman year. I thought I was going to throw up.”

Kent clinked his own beer to Bitty's in his unspoken congratulations. “Must have been rough.”

“Yanno?” He paused to take a drink from the beer. “Saying it out loud wasn't really the hardest part. I mean, it was hard, not being able to embrace it. But there was so much more to me accepting I was gay than saying it out loud. It was… yanno. Not lookin’ at boys in the locker room for fear that I wouldn't just be lookin’... But that I'd be  _ lookin’ _ . Or like… worrying about every interaction I had with my guy friends? Like was I hitting on them? Was I being gross? I didn't like any of them like that but I worried…”

“I used to worry that the only reason I liked hockey so much was because I liked being around the boys.” Kent offered and Bitty nodded vigorously in return.

“Yes! Like I was some predator or something. Only playin’ so I could be closer to the guys.” He huffed and shook his head then fell quiet. “What Jack did, what you did and everyone else who came out after him did? It's so  _ important _ . So, so important.”

A frown creased Kent's brow and he stepped forward, ducking his head to catch Bitty's eyes. “Hey… what are you talking about?” He waited only a beat before speaking again. “What Jack did? What about what you did? Sure, we all only came out because of him. But Jack? He only came out because of  _ you _ . You gotta know that.” The look Bitty gave him clearly showed he didn't. “Jesus Bits, I wasn't sure Jack would ever come out. He kept saying, once I get the C or once I get a cup. Gotta prove that I'm more than the scandals. Blah blah. But he has neither of those. So what changed? What's different? You.”

Bitty's face was growing red and he looked down. “N-no. I can't take credit for this, Jack did… he didn't… it wouldn't be-”

“Eric. Listen to me. You came into his life, showed him you can be out  _ and _ happy. You had support right? He saw that. You had teammates who didn't hate you for it? He saw that. He saw the media NOT eat you whole because of it. And look at you now, you've been contacted by what, five NHL teams? You've been publicly out for four years and you have  _ multiple _ teams fighting for you. You say Jack changed the name of the game for the NHL, but honestly, you changed it for him. All these kids should be looking up to you as much as they look up to him.” Kent tipped his drink to Bitty one more. “I know I sure as hell do.”

He held Bitty's eyes for a long moment to make sure he really understood what he was saying but then turned to give him some privacy, tears in Bitty's eyes that were threatening to spill over.

“How do you take your coffee?”

“How much cream and sugar you got?”

And Kent laughed and the moment broke. Bitty wiped his eyes, stood to put his own mug together. Kent gave his shoulder a squeeze and ignored the way his stomach did flips at the way Bitty was looking at him. They drifted to the living room, talked for a bit more about much lighter stuff, then parted ways when Jack called for his nightly Skype session with Bitty.

As Bitty was slipping into the guest room, and just before he closed the door behind him, he stopped to look back at Kent. He held the phone to his chest, chewing his lip before meeting his eyes. “Thank you, Kenny. For what you said. And if it means anything… I looked up to you, too. You weren't out, but you were always proud… confident. In a way I never could be. It was nice, seeing someone who looked a little like me feel okay and sure around guys who generally looked a little like Jack. They can be intimidating, big guys like him… I know that first hand.” he waited then gave Kent a big, brilliant smile. “So thanks. For that, too.”

Kent watched him shut the door behind him and a few minutes later could hear the low tumble of Jack's voice on Skype. Something inside Kent ached, jealousy, want, pride. He didn't know what. The surprising thing was, though, that he didn't want it to go away. It wasn't a great feeling but it was raw and it was real and it made him think. It made him want to think. As kit jumped up into his lap, he nuzzled her head, and murmured quietly. “Maybe I'm not such a fuck-up after all…”

___

_ She had a form like no other girl in town. _ __  
_ We had a baby boy, but I couldn't stick around. _ __  
_ I couldn't be tied down, that's just the way I was thinking. _ _  
_ __ Those days are gone and my heart is aching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never intended for this all to get so serious but here we are. I'm a sucker for the boys being supportive of bitty and the strength he shows so I kind of wanted to highlight that. Also I have never been to Vegas and Google only supplies so much so whoops.
> 
> Song: Those Days Are Gone and My Heart Is Breaking by Barton Carroll (https://youtu.be/xkn6Df9qpT8)
> 
> Come scream about things with me on Tumblr @ ticktockclockwork


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The One Where Kent Is Not An Asshole™.

Kent woke to the smell of cooking bacon. It was such a foreign experience that he sat up in bed, confused, for a solid few minutes before it clicked. He wasn't alone, he had a guest, a guest from the east coast whose schedule would be three hours off. Not to mention, this guest was known for his cooking. All this added up meant Kent _shouldn't_ be surprised, and yet he was.

It wasn't that Bitty was cooking or that Bitty was awake. It was that Bitty was comfortable enough to do both of these things without feeling the need to wake Kent up. Often when Kent had visitors, they'd putter around, unsure that they could or should do anything until he woke. Which always presented problems given that if Kent was allowed to sleep he would. Even his own teammates didn't make themselves at home in his place if they crashed there.

But there Bitty was, standing at the stove, humming to himself as he cooked. He looked freshly showered and Kent spotted his runners by the couch where they'd clearly been toed off earlier. “Did you go running this morning? Like… outside?” that was almost as surprising as Bitty making breakfast. It was hot in the mornings and Kent generally just ran in his gym to beat it. But he hadn't shown the gym to Bitty yet. Which meant he'd gone running, in the Las Vegas heat and didn't look the least bit worse for the wear.

Bitty, for his part, turned and blinked in surprise. “Morning!” He greeted cheerfully. “I didn't think you'd be awake yet. I heard you up pretty late last night.” Kent hadn't been able to sleep and had watched trashy television well past midnight. He'd had the volume low but apparently not enough. “And yes, I went running. It was actually kind of nice? Reminded me of Georgia. Running in the morning around Providence makes my chest hurt. Too cold.” He shook his head with a sigh and turned back to the bacon. “There's coffee, if you'd like some.”

Kent was still processing all that to really coherently wake up. “Where did get all this?” Kent spotted a dirty pan and bowl in the sink and if he sniffed, there were traces of vanilla in the air. He guessed pancakes. Either way, pancakes, bacon, coffee... the ingredients for all that had never been found in Kent's kitchen. Not all at once.

“I stopped by the store on the way back from my run. You know there's a really nice butcher at the market down the road? She gets all her stuff from local markets. I was just gonna get your regular ol’ Oscar Meyer but she insisted I try some of her cuts and I gotta say, it smells amazing.” He tapped the tongs on the side of the pan to shake off the excess grease then turned to Kent. His smile faltered a little when he saw Kent hadn't moved. “Was that not… okay? Did I overstep? I'm sorry, I just figured it would be nice to wake up to-”

“No, no, Bits you're good… it's just…” Kent had never had someone over like this who had cooked for him. The last time was probably his sister but even that had been years ago and no one in the Parson family could really call themselves chefs. “It's nothing, sorry, this all smells amazing. Thanks, man.” He swallowed thickly then moved to get coffee and that was enough to thankfully quell Bitty's nerves.

Bitty seemed content to leave Kent to his thoughts and his morning routine, finishing up the bacon then laying it out with the pancakes he'd left warming in the oven. He set it out on Kent's counter with some syrup and butter but said no more as he made up a plate for himself. Kent had to wonder if Bitty got this silent comfortability from Jack. He knew Jack was a single minded person when it came to his routines and often just needed quiet. Not silence, but quiet. It seemed Bitty had perfected the art of being around without being _around_.

The pancakes, of course, were heavenly.

“I shouldn't eat this.” Kent muttered as he took his fifth pancake and when he glanced over to Bitty, he caught the tail end of a satisfied smile from the smaller man. “Like, seriously, fuck man you should open a restaurant or something.”

“Keep talking like that, sweetheart, and I'll get the idea that you don't want me on your team.” Bitty touched his finger to his nose before he hopped off his stool to put his dishes away.

Kent held up his fork and knife as if to show he was unarmed. “No way dude. Just saying… these are amazing. And I have trouble believing Jack breaks his diet enough to properly enjoy your fucking amazing skills.”

Bitty flushed just a little at that and rolled his eyes. “He does just fine, thank you very much.” He cocked his hip to the side and made a vague motion with his hand. “I just gotta get more… creative sometimes. When we had Zucchinigedon at the Haus last year, I never thought I'd see the end of zucchini bread but that boy just loved it.” He shrugged and turned back to the dishes.

“Never let it be said that Jack doesn't do things one hundred and ten percent.” Kent snorted, shaking his head and finishing off his food as well. Just as he stuffed the last strip of bacon into his mouth, he motioned to Bitty. “Nah man, I got that. The cook shouldn't do dishes.”

It didn't take much coercing to chase Bitty out of the kitchen now that the actual cooking was done. He went and dropped down onto the couch and immediately took up his phone, typing away and smiling at whatever he was reading.

“That Jack?” Kent asked, carefully keeping his voice neutral and his eyes on the pan he was scrubbing.

When he didn't hear anything back right away he looked up to find Bitty watching him and he didn't really know what to make of that expression. It felt… calculating. Whatever that meant. He swallowed and was about to say something to break the silence but Bitty spoke first, interrupting him.

“It is. Wanna say hi?” He asked, hand holding up the phone with his thumb over the call button.

Oh God. Their carefully partitioned worlds were colliding and all Bitty had to show for it was a patient smile and a tilt to his head. So why was Kent freaking out? He could feel his heart rate spiking but he just plastered a smile on his face and shrugged exactly one shoulder, the perfect display of nonchalance.

Bitty saw right through it but he didn't need to know that.

“Sure.” He said it with a flick of his hand because, eh, it was only a phone call with his ex-whatever and his ex-whatever's _current_ -whatever. Up until this point the three had never spoken together as one. It had always been Kent and Jack, or Kent and Bitty, or Jack and Bitty. But never Kent and Jack and Bitty so no, Kent wasn't panicking, you're panicking, oh god, oh god.

And then Bitty was hitting the button on call and Jack was answering and maybe, alright, he sounded really good. “Hey Bud.” Then there was a pause before “Hey Kenny.” And Kent knew he was done for, dropping the skillet he'd been cleaning back into the sink forgotten.

He dried off his shaking hands and moved around to lean against the back of the couch so he didn't have to yell. He cleared his throat and looked to Bitty then to the phone. “Hey Zimms…” he murmured and he felt Bitty smile even before he saw it. When he looked over to the other blond, Bitty lifted his hand and squeezed Kent's arm.

Kent didn't know what that meant.

But it gave him hope.

“Did I tell you Kent is gonna take me to see Britney tonight?” Bitty asked, his smile bigger now, excited. He hadn't removed his hand.

“Britney who?”

“Oh my lord, Jack, don't play dumb.” Bitty huffed.

“Alright, alright. Désolé.” He replied with a laugh. Bitty shook his head and mouthed ‘this boy’ to Kent before going back to the conversation. “That sounds like fun. Send pics? I don't think I'll be up when you get back.”

“Yeah, I'll miss our Skype call.” Bitty pouted but then shrugged. “But, frankly… it's Britney. Soooo….”

Jack laughed and Kent couldn't help but chuckle, admiring the gentle flush on Bitty's cheeks. He was comfortable and relaxed, teasing Jack and making him laugh and being generous enough to share it with all with Kent. It was more than he had expected, more than he would have thought to ask for and it twisted something in his chest. Not quite jealousy, not quite longing.

He stayed quiet through most of the conversation, only really chiming in when he was addressed or when Bitty looked over to him for comment. Bitty’s hand did eventually leave his arm but the ghost of his warmth stayed behind and Kent was aware of it the entire time. He wanted it back, wanted to feel the heat of Bitty's hand on him more than he should given Bitty was only barely his friend.

These sort of feelings were going to get him into a mess of trouble.

Bitty did eventually wrap up the conversation and after they hung up with Jack, silence fell around them. Bitty looked up to him and Kent couldn't help but feel like he was waiting for something.

But what was Kent supposed to say? Hey, Bits, I want to kiss your face? Hi Jack! I think I'm falling for your boyfriend! Yoooo also I think I'm still in love with you? No, no of course he couldn't say that because that would make him an Asshole™ and he didn't want that reputation anymore.

He'd been that for awhile and he was kind of done.

When it was clear he wasn't going to say anything, Bitty's smile morphed from waiting to something else. Fond? Exasperated? Kent couldn't tell. He watched Bitty stand and pat his shoulder then move past, the hand trailing on his shoulder.

“Let's go into the desert today.” He spoke up and Kent turned to look at him. “Just for a bit? Then we’ll come back and get ready for the concert.” he spun on his toes, hands linked behind his back and Kent wasn't sure how anyone would be able to say no to that.

He certainly couldn't.

“Alright… your porcelain New England skin won't shrivel up out there will it?” See? Kent could play cool. All the panic was on the inside, where panic should be.

The startled laugh that came out from Bitty's mouth was a pleasant response to his admittedly terrible flirt-chirp. “Excuse you, Mr. Parson! I'll have you know I grew up _below_ the Mason Dixon line where the sun shined plenty fine. I wasn't born with these freckles. I earned them.” Then with a flourish he turned to go get his things from the guest room.

Kent was left with nothing else to do but watch and laugh. And definitely NOT freak out.

\---

_Thought I deserved so much more than work could pay._   
_I drove containers to BC from Monterrey._ _  
_ It was a long way on pins and needles.

_\---_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey. Long time no update, I know. Sorry about that. Between the holidays and work and life I just didn't really get back to this. This chapter is shorter than the others but it's mostly because I just wanted to get through it. I was in a sort of... Pseudo writers block? I was writing other stuff but I just couldn't get this one to go. So I forced it through and I have a bit more direction for what's to come so that's good.
> 
> Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy it! 
> 
> As always, come chatter with me on Tumblr @ ticktockclockwork!
> 
> Song: Those Days Are Gone and My Heart Is Breaking by Barton Carroll (https://youtu.be/xkn6Df9qpT8)


End file.
